Once
by RCB
Summary: Warning: DARK FIC. No pairings. Three seals to go and the end is nigh.


Title: Once  
Word Count: 2,251  
Rating: R {violence and language}  
Characters: Sam, Dean, others.  
Warnings: The only thing I can see that requires a special warning are general Season Four spoilers and major, _major_ reinterpretations of Christian concepts. That means, um, probable blasphemy.  
A/N: This is a birthday fic for julorean at livejournal.

"Thou art the anointed cherub that covereth; and I have set thee so: thou wast upon the holy mountain of God; thou hast walked up and down in the midst of the stones of fire."  
Ezekiel 28:14

~*~

_Once, he had a home._

It was hard to remember sometimes, the place that he'd once lived in. It was expansive but he never felt lost there, even when he felt so much smaller than everything around him. Sometimes he felt insignificant in the looming shadow of his father, but never lost.

Back then, it never occurred to him in his wildest imagination that he'd have to leave, that he would turn his back on his home, never to see it again.

After that, he didn't stay in one place if he could avoid it, and never called any place home again.

~*~

Dean tried to ignore Sam's pacing behind him. He was trying to figure something out, and Sam wearing a god damn hole in the floor behind him was doing shit for his concentration.

"Sam." He eventually barked, and Sam finally came to a halt. "Settle down."

"Settle down," Sam repeated, his voice laced with panic.

"Yeah, settle down." Dean ordered and resumed his work. He hadn't sharpened his Bowie since he'd been back, and the repetitive action always helped him think. And right now, he had plenty to think over. He wanted to surrender, drown out everything around him except for the sound of steel against stone.

"We've got three seals left Dean." The fear in Sam's voice was less controlled, and Dean stopped what he was doing again.

"Thank you, boy genius," he grated. "Shut up, I'm busy."

"You should have let me do this my way," Sam argued, and Dean didn't even have to turn around to know that Sam had stood up as tall as he could with his chin jutted out, eyes flashing with a defiant anger.

Dean had seen it a thousand times, maybe more. Not like he was counting; what an epic waste of time _that_ would be.

"We don't need your freaky demon powers to win this, Sam." Dean's voice was as gruff as he could manage, while examining the edge of his knife, index finger testing the edge carefully. The gleaming metal reflected Dean's eyes back at him as he did so, and he remembered a day when he would have been full of a righteous anger, filled with a need to go in with guns blazing; devils be damned.

But that was before. Before he remembered. He just couldn't muster up the energy to even work up a good glare right now. His reflection looked back at him, eyes flat and uncaring; the crap bedside lamp gave the orbs a slightly yellow tinge. It made him want to laugh, but it would be something hollow and brittle so he didn't.

Sam flopped his large frame into the edge of the bed, head in his hands. "How many people are going to die?"

Dean looked at his brother and gave him the honest to god's truth.

"No way to tell."

~*~

_Once, he had an important job to do._

He was focused on his work, above all else. He was always that way, ever since he could remember. Sometimes the geography changed, or the rules of the job, but not his work ethic. He always gave it his all. Here, he was surrounded all the time. He was never alone in Hell.

He was doing his newest set of tasks when he felt a presence behind him. He'd been content to ignore the intruder; he was working, and didn't want to be interrupted. But the interloper had waited patiently, watching. As a reward he'd worked the soul extra hard, tormented it in such a way that he'd hoped the unwanted guest would turn heel and flee, but that didn't happen.

Instead, when he was done and the smoking, bloody pieces fell into the bottomless abyss, an angel called him by name. An angel_ and it knew _his name_._

They spoke briefly, screams around them making it difficult for much conversation. When they were finished, the angel gripped him tight, and as he was so fond of saying later, raised him from perdition.

~*~

"We can't trust them!" Sam shouted, his red face just inches from Dean's own.

"You want to trust a demon over an angel?" Dean asked him, trying to keep his calm.

"She's never lied to us!" Sam looked ready to throw a punch and Dean silently wished that he would. Maybe just a push would do the trick.

"She's a demon whore!" Dean shoved Sam into the wall and waited to see if that did the trick.

Sam wasted no time in reacting, hands curled tightly into fists, landing a jarring blow to Dean's jaw.

"You still hit like a fucking girl," Dean taunted him.

Sam threw another punch but Dean avoided it, and clocked Sam a good one, square in the gut. Another man would have wheezed or hesitated after that, but not Sam. Dean wanted to smile with pride when Sam instead hit Dean back; a real head ringer, too.

"Don't talk about her like that," Sam warned, chest heaving in and out.

"You trust that bitch over me?" Dean asked him, cocking his head to the side and watching Sam's face carefully. There wasn't much that Sam could lie about; not anymore.

"Do you trust those angels over me?" Sam demanded to know, his eyebrows dangerously close to meeting in the middle of his face. Dean couldn't remember Sam ever looking so hurt, and pain was something that they'd seen a lot of over the years.

"There's a lot you don't know about me, Sam. Castiel does." Dean tried to keep his voice calm.

"And whose fault is that? You started to talk and then…" Sam's eyes grew misty, and he looked like he couldn't finish.

"You can't handle the rest. Not yet." Dean wanted to sigh. Wanted to exhale the whole story out in one big breath, but he couldn't. It wasn't the time for it.

"There's one seal left, Dean. _One_." Sam finally allowed himself to run a hand over his stomach, and Dean knew that come morning, Sam would be bruised all to hell there. Dean hadn't held back, not even a little.

"I can count, thanks." Dean grabbed the bottle of whiskey off the shelf, and took a quick drink. He tried not to roll his eyes at Sam's condemning glance at the bottle in his hand.

"That's it. I'm going after her." Sam declared, taking a step towards the door.

"No." Dean stood in his way resolutely. "You need to leave Lilith alone."

There was another scuffle, this one ending with the motel room door being slammed open and left that way, while Dean stood in the middle of the tacky penguin décor and just watched Sam leave.

Dean didn't see him again for three months.

~*~

_Once, he was young._

There was a time when he was surrounded by family. His father used to talk to him. Really_ talk to him, something that involved comfort and not orders._

One day all that changed.

He took orders, did as he was told. He desperately wanted to ask questions sometimes, debate the decisions, but he knew what that would result in.

Eventually, despite his best efforts to follow orders, he found himself alone and it became a theme in his life. Others would gravitate to him, and he'd known countless souls over the years, but at some point they would all leave.

Loneliness was an aching hole in his spirit and he was sure that nothing would ever fill it and make him whole again. It clawed at him, twisting him, making him something broken and desperate. He'd lashed out at times, so angry and resentful, but eventually he tired of that. His life was pain and he'd learned to just accept it.

But all he really wanted was to go home and be loved, despite all of his flaws.

~*~

"NO!!" Sam yelled, his voice hoarse and struggling against his unseen binds. Too late, and Lilith uttered the last of the incantation needed to break the last seal.

There was a rumbling as the great demon began to claw its way up out of hell, under what was supposed to be the prison of the Devil himself, and Dean knew that as it came, it would crack the sigils that held Lucifer at bay. A specially designed prison for angels, fallen or otherwise.

When it came, rushing out from deep fissures and into the night sky, Dean watched as Sam fell to his knees, hands clasped as if praying. While Dean resisted the urge to sigh at Sam's ridiculous show of faith, Lilith and Alastair watched expectantly for some sign of their Lord and Master.

Castiel placed a comforting hand on Dean's shoulder, and together they walked to Sam, forgotten by his demon captors and fervently praying, head bowed. Blood was running down his wrists, rivulets of sacrifice streaking down his arms.

"Where-nothing's happening!" Lilith's shrill voice broke the silence.

Dean reached down and ruffled Sam's hair lightly. Sam's quiet whisperings stopped, and he looked up at Dean with tears in his eyes. "We screwed up," he croaked, lips chapped from lack of water. He had no idea how long they'd had Sam, waiting for everything to line up just right so they could use his blood to open the last door.

"Why isn't anything happening?" Lilith screeched, pushing at Alastair angrily.

"Do you expect our Lord to just rush out like a fledgling demon?" Alastair argued back but Dean could hear the slight panic in his voice. He wanted to laugh, he really did, but he had more important things to do.

He turned to Castiel who was awaiting his orders and nodded at him. They'd already discussed what their next move was once the door was opened. Castiel moved fast, his wings disturbing the air in his wake.

"Sam." Dean tried to pull his brother to his feet. Since he was a damn Sasquatch, it was no small feat, and Dean laughed internally at his own pun.

"This is it." Sam's voice was as flat and dry as the desert behind them. He had a dazed expression,

"Yeah, this is it." Dean acknowledged quietly, one hand gently wiping some blood from Sam's cheek, and Castiel was suddenly at his back again. Sam's eyes fluttered closed, and Dean gently lowered him to the ground. His heart beat was strong and steady, he was just exhausted.

"WHERE IS HE?" Lilith was screaming, and stomping her feet into the dry dust.

All the gambling he'd done; the huge risks they'd taken, had all been worth it. Lilith's face screwed up in rage as she struck out at Alastair, ending his existence in a blaze of white light.

Dean didn't turn away from it, even though it hurt his eyes. Instead he watched until the last bit of Alastair was gone, obliterated from the earth and beyond.

Lilith turned her enraged gaze to him then.

Well, no time like the present. Dean took what Castiel offered and went to meet the misguided demon.

~*~

"Dean, you need help. Okay?" Sam begged him, his voice pleading. "It's not your fault. What you went through…"

"Sam, you just don't get it," Dean sighed, stepping over the body of the stupid, dead redneck that thought Dean would be an easy fight. Sam's eyes were filled with tears as he looked at the bodies again, dead and lifeless, vacant eyes staring at them.

Dean wiped the blood from his knife onto his jeans and regarded Sam carefully. He'd wanted to explain it to Sam before, had started to more than once; that the tears he'd shed weren't of shame, but of longing for Hell and all that it had offered to him.

"They don't matter. From the minute they were born, they started to die. Do you see what I'm trying to say here?" Dean asked, edging Sam to the wall. "They'll decompose and feed the earth. Death really just brings about life, Sam. You just need to learn to look at it the right way. I'm creating life here."

"Oh God, you're possessed. Fucking…Lilith." Sam's eyes grew angry, flecks of gold swirling lazily in slow circles and Dean watched as he screwed up his face, prepared to exorcise the imagined demons from his body.

"Lilith's dead, Sam. Gone. Poof," Dean took balled fists and opened them theatrically, unable to wipe the smirk from his face. "She served her purpose and we didn't need her any more."

"What are you-? _We_?" Sam's face was a mix of confusion and fear.

Dean cocked his head to the side, watching Sam. Dean heard the faint whisper of wings behind him and he smiled. Sam started to talk again, looking over Dean's shoulder at the newly fallen angels, but it wasn't Sam's turn to speak. Dean covered his mouth with his hand, silver ring scraping against one of Sam's teeth. "Shhhhh…" Dean tried to soothe him.

"I couldn't take being alone any more. There was one way out of that prison, Sam. One way, and I took it. I ripped my grace out and I left it behind. Well, heh… until yesterday."

Mammoth, inky black wings shadowed the look of fear and understanding that began to spread slowly across Sam's face.

Dean's eyes were golden, searing and brilliant like the sun; he turned them towards Heaven, now as empty as his lonely prison had been, while his fallen brethren kneeled to bear witness.

~*~

_Once, when Lucifer was young, he'd had a home, a loving father and brothers. He'd lost it all, and all he ever wanted was to try and find it again._

~*~

Fin

~*~

But who prays for Satan? Who in eighteen centuries, has had the common humanity to pray for the one sinner that needed it most, our one fellow and brother who most needed a friend yet had not a single one, the one sinner among us all who had the highest and clearest right to every Christian's daily and nightly prayers, for the plain and unassailable reason that his was the first and greatest need, he being among sinners the supremest?

~Mark Twain's Autobiography

A/N2: I totally blame Mark Twain. That quote has stuck with me forever. The bible quote at the beginning is one of the few that actually refer to Lucifer directly. Anyhoo, the birthday girl's prompt was Lucifer!Dean.


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